


Inevitable

by AudreyV



Series: They've Got a Fight Club [4]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Gentle Sex, Heterosexual Sex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intimacy, Kissing, Loyalty, Minor Annalise Keating/Bonnie Winterbottom, Minor Asher Millstone/Bonnie Winterbottom, Minor Bonnie Winterbottom/Sam Keating, Oral Sex, Running Away, Spoilers, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 09:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9116905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: “We shouldn't,” Bonnie said breathlessly, and Frank chuckled. He pulled her shirt off and tossed it into the darkness of the room as he replied, “Yeah, but when has that ever stopped us?”He was right. This was inevitable from the moment he showed up outside the funeral home.--Set during and spoilers through 03x05 ("It's About Frank")





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aboutelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aboutelle/gifts).



> This is a continuation and deeper exploration of the motel scene in 03x05. 
> 
> The first time I wrote Bonnie and Frank in a hot way, it was because the idea both intrigued and kind of horrified me. I never thought they'd hook up in canon. I definitely never thought I'd write a deeply emotional, introspective and legit romantic fic in response to that hookup, but here we are. 
> 
> There are mentions of Bonnie's relationships with Asher, Sam and Annalise, but this is pretty much Fight Club = OTP all the way. My super gay heart feels weird about how much I'm rooting for this sad, occasionally-homicidal hetero pairing, even though I still 100% believe in the twisted magic of Bonnalise. (Although, picture little Bonnie asleep in a big bed, all snuggled up with Annalise on one side and Frank on the other. I dare you to tell me that's not what Bonnie/happiness looks like.) 
> 
> FYI, if you like this, you can thank [aboutelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aboutelle/pseuds/aboutelle/works), who has been my second pair of eyes and fanfic BFF for a year now. Without her wisdom and encouragement I'd have a lot more half-finished drafts sitting on my computer, including this one.

Bonnie spent her life craving things she didn't deserve, like the idyllic dream of a tiny house at the end of a lane, hiking, spending dreary Pacific Northwest days in someone’s arms. A baby she’d get to keep, one she imagined as a little girl with green eyes. Bonnie’s fantasy was small, delicate like a swallow nestled between cupped palms. Holding tight would crush its hollow bones, so she kept her hands slack around it. Maybe if she pretended with total conviction that it didn’t matter, she’d wake up one morning and it would be hers.

She didn’t imagine that he loved her, even if that night in Coalport the arms were real. Bonnie tumbled into them, into him, into this thing she and Frank did whenever they got too sad or too drunk or too them. The moment she let herself indulge in the thought of a real life, it became inevitable. Bonnie knew from experience it was a straight line from being tucked into Frank’s firm embrace to gasping on top of him.

His palm slid across her jaw. Frank tilted his head, nuzzled his nose to hers, drew out the moment to give her as much time as she needed to say no. She ran her fingers along his scalp and reoriented herself to him.

No matter how long he waited to kiss her, Bonnie wouldn't hit the brakes. They both knew in these desperate moments she wanted Frank like he was air and she’d spent her whole life drowning. Him wanting her like that was another thing Bonnie might have wanted, if she let herself, but it was a step too far, even for a fantasy.

She looked at this strange new clean-shaven Frank and decided his battered face and dingy t-shirt matched his insides better than his cool-guy suits. Almost no one got to see Frank without that armor, and most people didn’t even realize what was beneath the careful artifice. He’d been excellent at playing his role. They had that in common.

Frank looked different but so much of this was the same. The way his mouth brushed gently against hers. How his hands tried to wander but hers went straight for his boxers, shoving them down without preamble.

But this time Frank’s touch on her waist held something new. Bonnie tensed at the echo of Laurel, teetering drunk and steadying herself with a hand on Bonnie’s hip, and asking “did you and Frank ever hook up?”

The question wasn’t a shock. Once she drunkenly spouted off about knowing what Frank was into, she knew Laurel would eventually ask. Yet, even with ample time, Bonnie hadn’t come up with a good answer to that question. The truth could complicate things. (A lie always would.)

That first drunken night, she grinned at Laurel’s raised eyebrow and said nothing. She knew keeping quiet made it seem like she knew Frank’s predilections intimately. Knew he left women covered in red welts and bruises because she’d traced the destruction in her own mirror the morning after. Laurel probably thought Bonnie had writhed under Frank's touch, begging to come and being denied. That she’d felt the flat of his hand stinging her ass again and again, or that she'd mewled and struggled underneath him as he drove into her.

Bonnie hadn’t.

She knew what Frank was into because he'd whispered all that into her hair after the first time they crashed into each other, almost a decade before. He clung to her as the words poured out of his mouth like a confession, the disorienting story of a Frank who wasn't gentle with anybody else.

As he spoke, Bonnie imagined Frank screwing her like she was normal, pressing her down onto the mattress and pulling her hair. The thought spread hot through her veins until her body shimmered and went translucent. She was nauseous, then a switch flipped deep in her chest and she was nothing at all.

Bonnie blinked back into existence to find Frank rocking her, kissing her temple and murmuring words of comfort.

“I'm so sorry,” she stuttered out. She moved to make a hasty, embarrassed escape, but even though Frank's arms went slack so she could pull away, his words coaxed her back.

“Nah, I am. Should've realized sooner you weren't okay,” he muttered.

Frank knew about her, of course. Bonnie had distilled her own warning label into a thirty second monologue that gave her partners enough information to avoid the land mines, but she’d been relieved to skip it, and even more relieved when Frank’s touch didn’t send her spiraling.

“I’m okay,” she said and she was surprised to realize it was the truth. Bonnie let herself relax into Frank’s arms. He twirled his fingers in her hair.

“Sorry. I don't do this with women.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you do a lot of this with women.”

“Not like this, Bon.”

Someone a little more naive would have heard it like a declaration of love. Bonnie merely nodded.

“That's okay,” she said.

If she was the type to believe in destiny, she would have felt the universe’s satin ribbons and bits of twine and tangled thread wrapping around them, binding them together years before they had murder in common.

Bonnie didn’t believe in anything, so she kissed him until she could ignore how strange it all felt.

On the floor of the motel, she felt Frank’s lips touch hers and the tension rushed out of her. Being with him was like sliding into a warm bath. Easy, familiar, comforting. (All she had to do was forget the people she was betraying as she shimmied out of her pajama bottoms and hooked her ankle behind his calf.)

She tensed as he rolled them over and Frank immediately reversed course, settled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Years had passed since they last retreated into each other, but he still knew her. Knew where the lines were, knew what she wanted and what she didn’t, knew how to wrap his arms around her so she’d feel secure but not suffocated. His fingers stroked her bare lower back and Bonnie thought of how different this was with Frank than with anyone else.

Frank wasn't wide-eyed like Asher, who’d been energetic, enthusiastic like a foolish puppy, giddy with pride when she came on his tongue or his fingers. Bonnie liked screwing Asher once she discovered what a considerate, thorough partner he could be, but she never trusted him with her moments of weakness. She focused on the way he caressed her body until she was too exhausted to panic. Some days it rose in her anyway, but she shoved it away with practiced determination, and her young lover was none the wiser.

Frank didn’t fantasize about fixing her like Sam did. Sam began with words, and once she trusted him he touched her. It started uncomfortably gentle, almost romantic, but by the time he finished with her he’d left marks.Sam accepted without question the fiction that she couldn't come at all, that she was too damaged, too broken to let go like that. When he fucked her, his hands strayed in predictable ways to her danger zones. The third or fourth time his fingertips lingered on the back of her neck, a voice in her head whispered that she was just an experiment to him. He only cared about seeing how far he could push her. Or maybe he liked seeing her crumble, getting to save poor fragile Bonnie from her own torn psyche.

And Frank, well, he was no Annalise (although Bonnie thought maybe that was a good thing.) Of course women were different fundamentally, but even among Bonnie's female lovers, Annalise was in a category all her own. Annalise pushed her too, but not like Sam had. Bonnie begged Annalise to tie her up, to blindfold her, to shove her against the wall of the office and fuck her. Annalise held Bonnie on the edge of too much, kept her trapped there until tears were streaming down her face. At a whispered “come, now,” low in her ear, Bonnie obeyed effortlessly. Moments with Annalise taught her how glorious it felt to belong to someone. Bonnie never felt the bottom drop out, never felt her insides go dark and cold, no matter how tight Annalise bound her or how roughly she touched her. (But she didn't delude herself that it was healthy, even if it felt safe.)

Asher worshipped her. Sam used her. Annalise consumed her. But Frank accepted her. He didn't expect her to be anything other than what she was. She didn't need to hide any part of herself from him. She never worried he'd be so horrified by her darkness that he’d leave her with nothing in the morning.

Bonnie knew she was different for Frank too. He never told Laurel the truth about what twisted him in knots while he slept. Bonnie thought that was a mistake. Laurel would have understood, could have weathered Frank’s nightmares or Bonnie’s flashbacks wordlessly and without judgement. (Part of Bonnie wished she’d given the serious brunette the chance to prove it. )

“We shouldn't,” Bonnie said breathlessly, and Frank chuckled. He pulled her shirt off and tossed it into the darkness of the room as he replied, “Yeah, but when has that ever stopped us?”

He was right. This was inevitable from the moment he showed up outside the funeral home.

She felt Frank hard and desperate underneath her, so she pushed the thought of Laurel aside. It was more difficult than she expected. They hadn't done this since before she appeared in their lives. Unlike Annalise and Sam, Laurel was a new specter in bed between them. Her ghost took up space.

“Is this okay?” he asked. His fingers hovered at the cleft of her labia, as still as they could be given both their trembling bodies.

“Yes. Go ahead.” She knew Frank could hear the tears that were building in her chest, but he understood and said nothing. She leaned down and kissed him as he slid two careful fingertips through her folds. Coming from anyone else that tenderness would have felt like a judgement, but Frank accepted all the broken shards of her like they were a gift. He treated her gently because he believed she had value. (She liked that he thought that.)

“I missed you,” Frank breathed, low and hot in her ear as he eased one finger inside her.

“You're the one who left,” Bonnie replied through a shuddered exhalation.

“I don't mean at the office. I mean this. It’s been too damn long since I had you on top of me.”

Frank's tongue explored her mouth even though it was familiar territory, like every inch of her had become over the past decade. The memory of his lips on her ankle, the hollow of her throat, the crease of her inner thigh, the curved plane of her stomach made Bonnie moan and move her hips.

“I want you,” she murmured when he broke the kiss to catch his breath. Bonnie shifted backwards so she could caress him, following the topography she’d learned by heart over the years.

“Then take me,” he said. “I'm all yours.”

Frank’s fingertips rested on her sides as she moved above him, lining up their bodies so she could sink down on him. When he filled her, the sensation lit up her nerves from her toes to the back of her legs then up the length of her spine.

His palms pressed flat and warm on her lower back. She took her time, indulged in the thrill of him inside and underneath her, then slowly began to move. Satisfaction rushed through her as she watched the effects of what she was doing show up on his face. She leaned down and kissed him, letting her lips and body say the things she wasn’t brave enough to put to words. 

And yet, even alone with Frank in a motel room hundreds of miles from Philadelphia, Bonnie struggled with the crowd.

Two people shouldn't have so many ghosts. Annalise, Sam, Asher, Laurel— and with that Bonnie's mind went down the rabbit hole, conjuring her father, who’d haunted her for years before he died. Except now he was gone, well and truly gone, because Frank loved her enough to send him to hell. (Bonnie knew that wasn't how normal people loved, but it was as real as anything she’d ever had, and it was more than she’d learned to expect.)

Maybe Annalise was right, and there was no reason for her to be alone. She wanted to believe that, but the weight of all they’d done and all they’d seen made her doubt she’d ever deserve a hand to hold, even one as covered in blood as her own.

“Hey… you okay?” Frank ran his thumb across her cheek and it came back wet. “You need to stop?”

“I'm fine.”

“You're not, and you don't have to be.”

“Just keep going,” she murmured. He sat up, shifting them so she was sitting in his lap, arms around his neck.

“I can tell you’re only half here,” he murmured in her ear. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It’s nothing important.” She kept moving against him as she spoke. “Don’t baby me.”

“I'm not babying you.” Frank wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. (Bonnie resisted, tried to keep going, but he held her firm and still until she stopped.) “I just know it’s been a hell of a couple of days, you know?”

“Forget days. Hell of a couple of years.”

“For all of us.”

Bonnie rested her head on Frank’s shoulder and let herself slump into the embrace. She wanted to insist that they veer away from this conversation, but too many ghosts lurked just at the edges of her vision, and these ghosts demanded attention.

“I think I need to get dressed,” she said quietly.

Frank squeezed her gently then let her go. She searched the blankets for her hastily-discarded underwear.

“Here.” Frank handed her a meticulously folded pair of boxers and a white undershirt. “Don’t worry, they’re clean.”

“Thanks.”

Once Bonnie was dressed, she turned to Frank and saw that he’d redressed in an almost-identical boxers/undershirt combo. She looked down at herself and then over at him again and started to laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“We’re a cheap motel version of the Shining Twins,” she managed to explain through a renewed fit of giggles. Frank smiled broadly.

“You wanna be the pretty one or the smart one? Can’t be both, that’s cheating.” He gestured to the bed. “Shall we?”

Bonnie slipped under the covers next to Frank. She let herself cling to him tightly, with an arm across his torso and her leg hooked over his. The silence stretched out as she unwound herself.

“It’s too crowded in here,” she said finally. “Everybody who has a piece of me or you, it’s like they’re between the sheets with us and there’s no room left to breathe.”

“Annalise?”

“Yes. I’m used to her though. Sam. But when you touched me here,” she said, gesturing to her waist, “it made me think of Laurel.”

“Why? You screw her?”

“Would you be jealous if I did?”

Frank’s brow furrowed as he considered his response. “Yeah. Jealous of you, jealous of her, mostly jealous I didn’t get to watch. Or participate.”

Bonnie’s heart thudded as she imagined Laurel’s ghost made flesh, the three of them tangled together. (It couldn't have worked, because Frank was one man but a different lover to each of them.)

“You’re a perv,” she said finally and he laughed.

“And you haven’t told me if you screwed her or not.”

Bonnie hadn’t crossed the line with Laurel, but she came close the night they played pool. She was unmoored enough by Frank’s absence to resent the abandonment. She stood too close and held Laurel’s arm for too long, but she stopped herself before she did more than fantasize about fingertips pressing hard into the flesh of her hips. There was a hole in her life and she knew Laurel was hurting too, except there was something else. It throbbed beneath the surface as the brunette stared through her, as if she knew Bonnie lied when she said she’d never been with Frank. Laurel was perceptive, smart, serious.Beautiful and fiery. It was obvious why Frank liked her.

“I couldn’t,” Bonnie said. “I thought about it, though.”

“In great detail?”

“Remember thirty seconds ago when I called you a perv?” she asked, but she blushed remembering how she’d touched herself and imagined Laurel holding her down and fucking her fast and hard. She was close to coming when the fantasy shifted and Laurel’s touch gentled. Frank and Laurel were rough with each other, but Bonnie knew both of them would be careful and sensual with her. She tipped over the edge with the thought of deep kisses, Laurel’s fingers inside her and thumb on her clit, her other hand pressed flat over Bonnie’s heart.

“She asked if you and I had ever hooked up,” Bonnie said quietly. She thought she felt Frank tense next to her.

“What did you say?”

“I told her no.”

“Why?” Frank asked.

“I figured if you hadn’t told her already, it must be a secret you want to keep,” Bonnie said in a low voice. Her eyes followed the winding paths of the cracks in the ceiling until he shifted, sat up and looked down at her.

“I’m not ashamed of this, Bon.”

Bonnie turned her head away.

“Right.”

“Hey,” he said, turning her face back. She covered the hand that lingered on her jaw with hers and steeled herself.

“It’s sex, Frank,” she said, flat and cold like she believed it. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It does, though.” He kissed her, quick and firm, punctuation on the sentence and Bonnie wished she could believe him. “The number of people in this world that I trust, I can count on one hand and not use all the fingers. You’re one of them.”

She nodded, softened. “Sorry I ruined this.”

“You didn't ruin nothing. I like it when you talk to me. Makes me feel like a person.”

“You are a person.”

“I'm glad you think so.” Frank pressed his lips to her forehead and settled back down on the bed. She rolled onto her side and he followed suit, spooning her, his arms snaking around her torso. “Thank you for coming here.”

“Thank you for giving me a reason to,” Bonnie said without thinking.They both followed the thread to the man whose body still rested in the funeral home a few miles away.

“He deserved it.” He pulled her closer. His hands pressed against her chest and she wondered if he could feel her heartbeat. “My only regret is that I could only kill him once.”

The raw emotion in his voice resonated with Bonnie, made her start to veer off course into fantasies again. When one of Frank’s hands moved to rest gently just below her navel, her thoughts spiraled out and her breath caught in her throat. She quickly brushed away the tear that slid down her cheek.

“Did it hurt?” Bonnie asked.

“I made sure it hurt.”

“Good.” She intertwined her fingers with his. “Did he… did he know why you were there?”

“Made sure of that too. Told him that his lungs melting from the inside out wasn't enough to make up for what he did to you.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. Guy was a sick bastard. He deserved to die screaming a hundred times. Killing him is probably the only good deed I’ve ever done,” he mumbled. “Can an evil person do the right thing?”

“I don’t know. But you’re not evil.”

“I am. I have been since the day I was born.”

“That’s not true. We were born clean slates. It took other people to make us who we are.” Bonnie stared out into the dark room. “Deep down inside, you have a good heart, Frank.”

“You’re too good to me,” he said finally. He squeezed her hand. “You ever think about what it might have been like, if we’d had normal lives?”

“All the time.” She thought for a moment. “We never would have met, though.”

“Nah, we would have. I would have seen you across the quad and pretended we had a class together to start a conversation.”

“I went to Smith. You would have been the only man on campus.”

“Fine, then I would have delivered your groceries or you would have brought your car to my pop’s garage or we would have ended up under the same awning during a rainstorm. Somehow it would have happened.” He kissed her on the cheek. “You and me were inevitable, Bon.”

Bonnie’s heart stuttered in her chest. She blinked and saw them looking out at the Pacific Ocean, lounging on a brightly colored blanket while a little girl with green eyes made a sandcastle a few feet away.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Frank said, his voice quiet and hesitant in her ear.

“You didn’t,” she lied. “I was just thinking about what it would have been like if I’d had a normal life. If I was born someone else's daughter. Or if my mom left him like my sister’s mom did.” She paused, rolling the idea around in her mind. “If just one thing had been different, there would be a Bonnie who became a doctor instead of a lawyer, because she had nothing to avenge. Or a Bonnie who knew how to love the way regular people do. I could have met someone. Had kids.”

“Still could. I meant it. We hop in the car and drive west until we get someplace where none of this can find us.”

She could hear the seagulls and the crash of the waves on the beach, and feel the chill of the breeze on her skin. Her toenails were painted bright pink and there was a familiar flutter in her abdomen. Frank’s eyes were full of the sun and he was laughing and for a moment it felt so possible.

The water rose and the sandcastle fell apart and washed away. It kept rising and one by one the little girl and the blanket and the Frank who loved her all sunk below the surface.

“If we drive far enough away to escape everything, we’ll end up in the ocean.” Bonnie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “What we've lived through… the things we've done… they’ll follow us wherever we go.”

“So what do we do?”

“You let me take you home and we fix things.”

“She’ll never forgive me.” Frank’s body grew tense against her. “Better if you went back alone and told her I was dead.”

“I can't lie to her anymore.”

“It doesn’t have to be a lie.”

Bonnie followed his logic and a shock went through her entire body, like she’d crashed through thin ice into frigid waters.

“Don’t say that,” she said in a tiny voice.

“You'd all be better off.”

“That isn’t true.” She rolled over and took his face in both her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I'm already so lost without you.”

Frank looked at her like he was scared it was a lie. Bonnie searched for the right thing to make him believe her, finally reaching for him and pulling him to her. She kissed him like she thought it could be the last time and she was going to make it count. His body went stiff with surprise for a moment and then Frank was returning the kiss, feverishly, vehemently. She trapped his lower lip between her teeth and tugged on it; he growled and his hand groped under her shirt, fingers seeking and finding one of the spots that they both knew would make her writhe.

Bonnie peeled off her shirt, then pushed Frank away long enough to rid him of his. They crashed back together. She moaned into his mouth as he circled one stiff peak with his thumb.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you make that noise,” he mused, dropping his head to nip at her shoulder, but she pulled away.

“Sorry, did I do—” Frank began, words trailing off as she pushed him flat on the bed and tugged his underwear off. She lifted herself and pulled the boxers she’d borrowed down, pausing just after the they passed her hipbones.

“Is this okay?” she asked flirtatiously, fingers toying with the waistband.

“Christ, Bonnie, better than okay. Do you see how hard I am right now?”

Bonnie’s eyes flicked over his naked body, taking in the way his abs quivered and the swell of his erection. She reveled in his gaze, craved his desire for her like it was a drug.

“Take these off me.” She knelt next to him.

Frank exhaled slowly and made an appreciative noise. He reached up and grasped the waistband, then slowly pulled the dark red fabric down to her knees. His hand trailed down from her hip to her knee, then back up along her inner thigh. She shivered and moved one of her legs, giving him better access. He groaned at the heat radiating from her as he gently traced her slit.

“Can I…” Frank swallowed hard when his fingers slid against Bonnie’s clit and she whimpered. “Can I get you off with my mouth?”

“If you want to.”

“I want to. Don't get me wrong, I want to fuck you too, so bad. But please let me taste you first.”

Frank looked at her with an expression that made her feel warm all over, and Bonnie flopped back on the bed instead of thinking too much about what that meant.

Frank leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. It was the closest she'd ever had to a movie-worthy kiss, tender and searching and thorough. Soft and sweet doubled down, teeth nipping at her lower lip just hard enough to send a shiver straight to her center. She vibrated with anticipation as he moved down her body. 

Lips touched her collarbone, between her breasts, the pale expanse of skin just below her navel. Being touched there usually made Bonnie self-conscious of the white stretch marks that streaked her skin, but now all she could picture was Frank’s hand gently— protectively, proudly— caressing her swollen belly. She knew it was a pipe dream set alight by the exhaustion of the past few months, but she ached for it regardless.

“God, I've missed you,” Frank murmured, and it was enough to bring her back to here and now from nowhere and never will be. He pressed his lips just above her knee, mouthed his way up her inner thigh. He detoured to her hip, ran his teeth along the ridge then pressed his lips gently to the small tattoo on her upper thigh. (Bonnie wasn't the type, but some things needed to be commemorated with ink and blood. Most of her lovers didn't even notice it. Those that did assumed the flock of tiny butterflies was a spring break bad decision, and she didn't correct them.)

Frank spread her legs further apart and settled between her thighs. Bonnie’s breaths came faster, sharper, shorter as he slowly leaned down, closer and closer until he could draw his tongue along her outer lips. He made a small sound of satisfaction when he finally swiped his tongue across her slit and Bonnie bucked against him.

He'd built things up achingly slow, but once he tasted her his tactics became more focused. She sighed when he hummed against her clit, inhaled sharply when he nipped at her labia. When he plunged his tongue inside her, she cried out and her hands reached down, but they stopped before she knew if she'd intended to push him away or pull him closer.

Her muscles were already wobbly from how tightly wound she'd been all day and Frank seemed determined to unravel her completely. It would be a relief if somehow he could. Bonnie was used to living— screwing— with a constant undercurrent of tension in her body and wanted so badly to let go.

Frank shifted, one hand reaching up and catching hers, tangling their fingers together. She gripped tightly when his other hand pressed against her entrance, but his fingers slipped inside her with the gentlest of pressure, encountering no resistance as they delved into her. (Even her traitorous body trusted him, and that meant something, but Bonnie couldn’t let herself think about that.)

It was obvious Frank was enjoying himself, and the thought of how hard he must have been sent a shiver through Bonnie. He moaned as he explored her folds with his tongue. Her back arched and she flushed pink all over as he tore her down and built her up better with his mouth. 

“Is more okay?” Frank asked. It took Bonnie a moment to realize he’d pulled out and had three fingers pressed against her.

“Yes.”

He pressed forward, slowly.With anybody else it would have been too much, but Frank knew when to ease up and when to persist, reading her movements and expression like a map.His fingers filled her. He curved them inside her and pleasure jolted through her when they found their mark. She couldn't stay still, head thrashing against the pillow, body twitching as her nerves worked overtime sending the hyper-real sensations to her brain. She’d forgotten how good it could feel with him, being able to let go, not having to be wary.

“I want more of you than this,” she pleaded.He chuckled.

“You’ll get all of me that you’ll have. Can you be patient long enough for me to get you off like this?”

Bonnie was about to say, no, stop stalling, but when Frank finished speaking he drew his tongue through her with a firm, purposeful motion. She groaned as her clit throbbed and her vagina clenched around his fingers.

“You okay?”

Bonnie cupped the back of his head with her free hand. “Less talking, more making me come.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin. He moved his fingers slow and steady and applied gentle suction to her clit and if Bonnie wasn't already more turned on than she could ever remember being, that would have skyrocketed her there.

She panted and shifted her hips and she probably cut off the circulation to his fingers with how tightly she held his hand, but Frank seemed unfazed. He hummed against her, his blissful moans vibrating through her, and she couldn't believe she’d forgotten how much he got off on making her come with his mouth.

“Oh, god,” she wrenched out when he thrust his fingers into her with a little more force. “I'm so close,” she said, remembering how he’d always liked it when she gave him a heads up so he could watch her come.

Frank's eyes flicked up to her face and stayed there, looking hard even as his tongue massaged her clit. She glanced down at him and felt an emotion surge through her, but couldn’t tell if it was that she felt guilty (she should have) or hopeful (she shouldn't have but she did).

Frank watched her intently as he coaxed a climax out of her, guiding her up up up until she broke and she felt everything. Bonnie shut her eyes tight and rode it out. His hand stilled as her body clenched around it, but his tongue continued to move against her until every drop of pleasure had been wrung out of her.

She loosened her grip on his hand but didn't let go. Instead, she tugged him up and kissed him. Lightning bolts throbbed inside her when she tasted herself on his tongue.

“Please fuck me.” The words were so much quieter than she intended. She wanted them to be a demand, all sass and hard edges but she was practically begging. Such weakness should have bothered her, but it was Frank, and she couldn't be embarrassed when all her cells were still rearranging themselves back into something solid.

“Love to,” Frank said with an easy grin. “Give me a second to adjust,” he added as he started to reverse their positions, but Bonnie’s calf hooked behind his leg, pressed hard before she even realized what she was doing.

“Don't. Stay just like this.” Her lips found stubble on his cheek, the corner of his mouth, then she traded the roughness for the soft warmth of his lips. The kiss lit more of Bonnie on fire.

Frank nipped at her earlobe and brought his mouth to her ear to whisper “You sure?”

She could already feel the tip of his cock pressing against her, but she knew he’d stop, right then, no questions asked if she said no. The thought was so big that one of the parts of her that was still wound tight snapped like a rubber band.  It spun out, setting off a tidal wave of feelings in her as she looked up at him. She wished she could tell him, but it wasn’t something she could name. Instead, she reached down between them and stroked him, then guided him inside her.

They'd done this an hour ago, but it felt new, with Frank on top, his eyes locked with hers as he slowly moved above her. Bonnie wanted to kiss him but couldn't look away. She wanted to say something, to tell him how it felt (different, it was different, but she couldn't quite say why) but she lost herself in the sensations and him and that was okay too.

He was warm and solid on top of her. She placed her palms flat on his chest, then slid her hands up to grip his shoulders. He grinned down at her as she started to meet his thrusts eagerly.

“I love when you surprise me,” he mumbled and Bonnie let her hand trail up to his face. Her chest was full of words but there was a lump in her throat she couldn't push them past, so she touched his cheek and looked into his eyes and hoped he’d be able to translate.

“A little harder?” he asked and she nodded. He pulled almost the whole way out, teased her with the tip of his cock, then sunk back into her. She cried out, then moaned as he found his rhythm, alternating between pulling away then surging forward.

In the shadowy room, Frank’s eyes were dark and deep. Bonnie wondered what he was seeing as he held her gaze. He seemed about to say something, but his brow wrinkled and she could almost see the decision to keep quiet.

He moved his hand down her body. His fingers hesitated as they skimmed her lower belly, closer and closer to where she desperately wanted him to touch her.

“Can I?” His voice was husky and strained. She reached down and covered his hand with hers, pressed his fingers hard against her clit. Shocks burned through her and she arched her back and pushed her hips down. The shift opened her up, and he groaned as his cock sunk deeper.

She was so full of him and he looked at her like she was everything.Bonnie almost wondered if she'd lost herself in another fantasy, but for weeks she'd felt him tugging at the ribbons that twined around them from across the miles. She realized the bonds were always permanent, but loose. Now each invisible string was pulled taut, their anchors buried deep, locking the two of them together.No matter how much space was between them, no matter what disaster happened next, no matter what deep hurts they carved in each other, eventually they’d be drawn back together. They’d never be able to stop it, even if they wanted to. 

Part of her knew she’d die if she lost Frank for real; she wanted to tell him that, but Bonnie had never been good at knowing the difference between the truth and a beautiful lie, so she stayed silent and let herself get swept up in the pressure building in her.

She’d already come on his tongue but she felt her insides tightening again, heat vibrating deep in her belly. There weren't words in her to warn him she was close this time, but she bit her lip and nodded and it made him moan.

“You’re so beautiful, Bon,” Frank murmured and she let herself believe it was the truth. Everything spilled over and she cried out, crashed down, dug her fingers into his shoulders. She kept her eyes open and it was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced, watching his face as he watched her come undone.

She was tight around him, shuddering from the aftershocks, when she saw him starting to lose control. He moved to pull away but her grip on him tightened and she shook her head.

“I want you to. Please,” she managed and she thought she saw something strange in his eyes, but then he nodded and began to thrust harder, faster. She was all raw nerves and sharp edges and the most honest version of herself she’d ever shown to another human being. She hadn't come down from the last one and the scrape of his cock against her swollen clit bordered on painful before it tipped back into pleasure. He plunged into her, over and over, groaning as she clenched around him and abruptly unraveled again.

It had never been like that before, and it probably never would be again. Bonnie tried, she tried, but in a heartbeat it became too much and she shut her eyes tight. Even then everything was in brilliant, brutal color. As she thrashed and sobbed, the one clear thought she had was that maybe this was what people meant when they talked about “making love.”

Frank’s body jerked as he neared his peak. He captured her lips with his and thrust his tongue inside her mouth. She felt his body go rigid as his cock spasmed inside her.He kissed her one last time, whispered in her ear, then he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

In the stillness of after, Bonnie had words again. They poured out of her and joined the things Frank had said already.Bonnie wondered if orgasms always made her so foolish or if she meant what she said. (She didn’t question if Frank meant it, because she could feel his tears hot on her skin and his arms clutching her like she was a life raft and he was lost at sea. Her head still tried to tell her it was all lies, but every other part of her knew it was true.)

“Oh shit, sorry,” Frank mumbled. He pushed up so his weight wasn't on her and made plenty of space between their torsos.

“For what?” she asked carefully. (‘He’ll say he was just teasing again, Bonnie, you stupid, pathetic slut,’ her brain said, but she pushed the thought away.)

“I know you don't like… you know.” He looked sheepish for a moment. “You told me before being under someone makes you feel trapped. I should have remembered.”

“This is different,” she said, as much to herself as to him. She pulled him down and he relaxed against her. “Please come home with me.”

“I want to.”

“Then do it,” Bonnie said, like it was that simple.

“But what happens then?” he asked.

“You'll talk to Annalise and—”

“Not that. I mean… the people we are right now, they can’t survive back there. The Frank and Bonnie who belong together, have each other's backs, maybe even love each other… they're not the ones who go back, are they?”

“No. But they're also not the ones with blood on their hands.”

He shifted onto his back so he could pull her into his arms, kissed her like she'd know the translation of each slow movement and every scrape of his teeth along her lower lip.

“Okay,” Frank said finally, as they laid in bed watching the pink dawn break through the cracks in the blinds. He took a deep breath, then let it rush out of him, and Bonnie gripped his hand tightly. “I’ll come back with you.”


End file.
